


d-day

by Katology



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive James Potter, Abusive Relationships, Abusive Sirius Black, Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Basically a whole lot of daddy issues, M/M, Minor Drug Use, Minor Suicide Mention, Minor alchohol consumption, Non-Explicit Sex, everyone dies, not between tom and harry though, sorry in advance ;D, this will be very fucking depressing so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 12:03:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18799969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katology/pseuds/Katology
Summary: Don't squander the precious time you have with... whomever you care for.All it takes is a large rock to turn everything you've ever known into burnt carbon.A two-shot Tomarry apocalypse au





	d-day

**_1773 days until impact_ **

 

 _“Further reports conclude that the rogue planet, nicknamed Tenebris, is indeed heading towards Earth, and it should arrive in approximately five years. Scientists around the world are currently testing methods of either destroying or redirecting the mass away from a trajectory towards Earth-”_   
  
The monotone droning voice of the news reporter buzzed in the background, and Harry groaned and clutched his forehead.

 

Oh... _why_ did he decide to drink so much fire whiskey?

 

_James screaming at Lily, memories of grabbing a glass handle, chugging as if his life depended on it._

 

He covered his eyes with a comfortably cool hand, and sighed; listening intently to the TV before scoffing. That isn’t news.

 

And personally; he couldn’t be bothered. Harry Evans has nothing to live for anyways. His mother and father out of the picture… No friends to speak of...

 

All he could do is wait for the inevitable, and do everything he can to make his last moments at the very least not miserable.

 

The rich are preparing to find a new planet. So far, the test rocket ships are failing. And in all honesty, he hopes that they don’t work…

 

Everyone else is stuck on the surface of this god forsaken planet. It wouldn’t be fair. Stuck where the planet will unavoidably strike smack dab to crush the Americas, and in an instant; the entirety of Earth.

 

Humanity doesn’t really deserve second chances. Everyone around him has let him down somehow; ruined his life. He has not seen anyone, or anything contrary.

 

Harry doesn’t believe that Earth will be saved, despite the efforts of the entire world. It will be destroyed. Every single speck of rock and soil will condense into a soup of dust, floating into space and cloaking everything signifying the presence of society.

 

It would be depressing if Harry didn’t care; every skyscraper, every home, every _person_ would break to their main components. Nothing but a shadow. Destroying any evidence of their smiles, how they loved or hated, passions… Nothing but burnt up carbon.

 

Gone.

 

Gone forever and utterly.

 

Flickering lights flashed overhead. Pain shot behind his eyes, waves of a blinding heat swirling in his brain; heating everything. Travelling, reappearing as nausea that permeated through abdomen. He stood with a groan, swaying and grabbing a hold of his worn coffee table.

 

He leaned forward, wincing as he tried to control his vertigo. Harry breathed harshly through his dry mouth. Every single movement jostled his joints, protesting with a burning resolve.

 

_“A top scientist from the university of Cambridge, Dr. Hudson comes today with startling information concerning the imminent apocalypse. Thanks for coming!”_

 

_“No problem, and thanks for the warm welcome; anyways; we are preparing for the eventuality-”_

 

Oh god hangovers were the _worst._

 

He groaned and stood up, soft footsteps padded through the kitchen. He carefully opened the cupboard, grabbed a paper cup and filled it with tap water.

 

He gulped it gratefully, before filling it with more water and grabbed the pill bottle. He screwed the lid open and popped a few (he didn’t bother to count) pills into his mouth, swallowing them with another swig of his water.

 

He sat on the worn couch, staring at the empty alcohol bottle in disgust before grabbing the remote and flicking through the channels.

 

Surprisingly no riots. It started out that way, a few years back when the news came out. Now the thought was either mind-numbingly terrifying or just a complete joke. Using it as a form of humor rather than a death warrant.

 

_“According to The Time’s new poll, most, 64%, of millenials voted that the future collision is inescapable; a drastic difference with Gen X’s and Boomers; who are most optimistic about the chances of the salvation of Earth. On the other hand, Gen Z’s are making jokes, known colloquially as ‘memes’, about the imminent apocalypse-”_

 

Mass suicides broke out. Generally with those who were already depressed. But… the rest of us, the rest of humanity; either hoped for salvation or partied until they breathed their last breath.

 

_“Instances of drug use have massively increased- by 124% as of 2019. California, Nevada, New York, Maine, and Oregon have decriminalized non-violent drug use of all types-”_

 

Children have also drastically ceased to be born, their parents unwilling to raise a child that will die within a few years. In fact; it has been somewhat of a social taboo. Any child younger than Kindergarten age is treated as highly unusual, and the younger the child; the worse the stare and judgement.

 

Many parents are pulling their children out of school, to spend the last few years at home with their loved ones.

 

_“The birth rate in America is now a startling approximately 0.76 children per family. What is even more preturbing is the lack of children in primary and secondary school; parents at a consistent rate are pulling their children out of schooling. School’s across the nation keep closing at an astonishing rate-”_

 

Harry stopped in his shuffling through news stations, a comfortable warmth starting to settle in his veins.

 

He smiled at a sudden tranquility. A slowly rising water rushed throughout his head; muffling every sense. Harry collapsed on the couch, releasing a content sigh.

 

Sleeping pills were wonderful; the hangover now distant memory.

 

Flashes of purple, ecstatic screaming, being held down while moaning. Begging for more, enthusiastic consent. Throwing back a shot of fireball, making out, blaring music. Muted noises as the alcohol swam in his veins, setting a burning path throughout his body. Erotic pleasure.

 

Happiness.

 

“Tom, please… more!”  


 

“What did you just say?”

 

  
“Sir,” he amended, “Please!”

 

  
The man gave a dark chuckle, “Of course,” he breathed.

 

* * *

 

**_1772 days until impact_ **

 

The beep of the alarm resounded through the small bedroom.

 

Harry frowned and felt a warmth surrounding him, a _body._ One which was wrapped around his torso, spooning him.

 

The brown haired man (what was his name again?) sat up abruptly, unwinding his arms from the body in front of him. His eyes widened, surveying the room with a confused glint. The annoying beep continued and Harry muttered a curse and banged his hand on the alarm clock.

 

It silenced, and Harry opened one eye as he heard a rustle of sheets. The man in front of him (oh- wow he was hot) grabbed lost articles of clothing from the carpeted floor. The sunlight emanating from the window accentuated his toned body, and Harry stared appreciatively.

 

“Leaving so early?” he asked.

 

The man stared at Harry, eyebrow puckered and expression inscrutable. Then he frowned slightly and shook his head.

 

“I have to,” the man said tersely.

 

Harry hummed, then smirked, “Was the sex that bad??”

 

The man- _Tom_ he remembered- snorted, “Not sure yet,” _What an asshole._ He finished bringing his arm through the armhole of his white shirt.

 

With a sigh, Tom put his belt through the hoops of his pants. Harry looked at him sleepily, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles.

 

“Look,” Harry said finally, “I’m going to go back to sleep, so if you want to leave; you can. But if you want to stay; you can sleep in, and we can have morning sex,”

 

Harry paused and amended, “Afternoon actually,”

 

“I have to go to work,” Tom said, tone slightly beseeching.

 

“Oh,” Harry said, a flitter of disappointment travelling down his spine, “Do you atleast want my number?”

 

Tom gave that unreadable expression before giving, a small yet genuine smile. He shrugged, “Why not?”

 

Harry understood that phrase, oh how he understood it.

 

Why not. Very simple, yet it defines much of human existence; curiosity at its most basic levels, the drive for most human motivation.

 

It's what lead to a number of achievements, losses, victories… But, that was just the jist of it.

 

As the end of himself, _humanity_ as a whole drew nearer, any previous disinclinations were meaningless. Nothing. Disappearing just like the hopes and dreams of the slowly maddening population.

 

Everyone suddenly did what they wanted, with no retribution hindering them in the slightest.

 

Want to try drugs? Why not. They can't destroy a life they won't have in a few years anyways.

 

Finally ask the girl out? You will die soon. It was now or never.

 

Society was ironically more peaceful because of this, becoming much more libertarian than ever before.

 

The government just doesn't care anymore. The only job they have now is to reduce panic before the inevitable end. Everything else… it was very useless to lock up a drug lord when it would have no bearing on tomorrow.

 

Everyone will be the same sooner or later. Just scattered dust, just useless organic matter destined to drift through space. Until it burned almost immediately from the Sun’s heat.

 

Just like that. A simple _ball_ of gas that destroys the last remnants of mankind. Just a ball. Literally just a hot sphere.

 

It's kind of funny; in a nihilistic way. Most of the younger generation feels that way anyways, himself included.

 

“Here,” Harry said, “Feel free to call or text; though I almost never answer phone calls, so…”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Tom said amused, entering into his phone the last few digits. His posture abruptly changed and he stood taller, “I'll be sure to text when I have time,”

 

Tom grinned down at Harry, still sitting in bed, sheet temptingly covering his groin region in a thin veneer. Harry looked up at him through his black hair, giving a wink before saying, “You do that,”

 

Tom gave a nod and put his phone in his trouser pocket, grabbing a hold of the handle before a voice stopped him, “Oh by the way,” Harry said cheekily, “Androids are better,”

 

He pointedly looked at Tom’s IPhone with feigned-disgust.

 

Tom rolled his eyes with a smirk, “You're a menace. I have no time to prove you wrong,”

 

“You never will,” Harry fake-growled, eyes giving away his humor, “Android 'till I die,”

 

Both of them froze at the reminder, Tom wincing. The light atmosphere between them evaporating in an instant.

 

“Well… I guess that seems very likely,” Tom said softly.

 

Harry snorted. Very likely indeed.

 

“Goodbye Harry,”

 

“Bye Tom,” he said softly.

 

Tom walked out of his bedroom door and closed it with a quiet click.

 

It was no surprise Harry couldn't go back to sleep; tossing and turning for a good half an hour. He finally grabbed his phone from the bedside table, groaning slightly.

 

He went on Reddit and scrolled through memes.

 

It poked fun at the inevitable demise of the human race.

 

* * *

  


**_1765 days until impact_ **

 

Harry's phone pinged with a soft noise, and he lifted his gaze from TV. He set down his cheeseburger gently and grabbed it off the couch.

 

It was text. He raised his eyebrow and opened it, jaw dropping slightly at the message.

 

**Hi, it's Tom. Do you have the time to meet at Filepe's, 7:30?**

 

Harry's eyebrows rose and he had to stifle a warm smile. They definitely had delicious ice cream, and it was adorable that Tom liked it too; since he never mentioned the place to him.

 

The place is a bit obscure, but that's not the issue.

 

He truthfully thought that Tom would forget about him, after all; he was just a one-night-stand.

 

It was heartening to realize that Tom remembered him.

 

But… what was even more endearing that Tom expected Harry's acceptance; unless he had predated plans, of course. But these days they are far and few between. He didn't mind, truthfully. He preferred it.

 

Though variety is the spice of life, and all that rot.

 

Tom had a quiet confidence in his words, in his demeanor. Some would say that it bordered on arrogance.

 

Harry had no such proclivities; he just found it ridiculously charming.

 

He set the number as a contact and replied:

 

_sure! im assuming for dessert right??_

 

 **No, Harry. We are having ice cream at 7:30 am in the morning, along with our eggs and toast**.

 

Harry snorted at the comment:

 

_ty for this wonderful opportunity. i've always wanted to eat ice cream for breakfast._

 

**You are most welcome.**

 

_why do you use proper grammar and stuff lol, it's just texting._

 

As soon as he had sent it Harry paled. Oh god he hoped that he didn't offend Tom. He waited impatiently as the screen stayed identical, the only difference in the slowly changing time.

 

It pinged again and Harry let out a sigh of relief, before busting up into a raucous laughter at his response.

 

 **Maybe I just want to be articulate, unlike barbarians who don't do so**.

 

your calling me a barbarian? :0 rood.

 

His chest started to burn from the uncontrollable snickering.

 

**_You are a barbarian, Harry; albeit a handsome one._ **

 

_im torn between being flattered or insulted_

 

**Why not both?**

 

_true true. anyways, count me in ;)_

 

**Alright; see you there, Harry.**

 

_coolio my dude_

 

There was a long pause, and Harry decided to get up and grab a soda, when his phone pinged again with Pepsi in hand.

 

**'Coolio my dude’? Really?**

 

Harry snickered.

 

_;))_

 

An indescribable warmth welled in his chest, and he could feel something roiling in his veins; something he didn't think he would ever feel again.

 

Fondness.

 

* * *

  


Harry grinned at Tom as he ordered a mint chocolate chip cone, before Tom looked back at Harry and raised an eyebrow in question.

 

Harry glanced at the cashier and said, “I’ll have the butter pecan, thanks,”

 

She nodded and the man next to her began to fill sugar cones with their selected ice cream.

 

“Thank you,” he whispered to Tom, “For taking me here,”

 

Tom gave that mysterious smile, “No problem, Harry,”

 

The employee gave them their ice creams and Tom handed him his Visa. Once they payed, they sat down and Harry quickly grabbed a spoon.

 

“This flavor is my favorite,” Harry commented.

 

Tom grinned at that and took a bite of the ice cream. He swallowed and said, “Just wait until you try yours, this was- and still is- my favorite place to get ice cream  Everything will probably pale in comparison,”  
  
Harry looked amused, “Oh I know everything else is shit compared to this. This is my favorite place too,”   
  
“You’ve been here?”

 

“Oh yeah, I used to come here a lot when I was a kid; when each cone costed like a dollar for a scoop,”

 

Tom looked startled and said, “I did as well. I used to ride my bike here after school sometimes,”

 

“Oh, where did you go to school at?” Harry asked.

 

“Harley,”

 

“The school for the rich kids? Nice,”

 

Tom smiled slightly and said, “I wasn’t particularly wealthy, I got there on a scholarship,”

 

Harry whistled, “Damn. You must be really smart then; they are notorious for being picky,”

 

“I guess so,” he shrugged, “I started at the public elementary and skipped a few grades, did half of freshman before being recommended to transfer,”

 

“By who?”

 

“The chemistry teacher,”

 

Harry gasped, “Professor Snape?”

 

“The very same,”

 

“He hated me,” Harry smiled ruefully, “I was not the best chem student, and he hated my… father when they were in school,”

 

“If you don’t mind me asking, why didn’t Severus like him?” Tom asked curiously, biting a piece of his sugar cone.

 

Harry snorted, “I don’t even blame Snape, my father was a fucking asshole; I wouldn’t be surprised if he acted the same way at school,”

 

Tom gave a long-searching look and nodded solemnly, yet hesitantly, “I understand,”

  
  
Harry looked knowing and smiled a bit around the ice cream, “Well this has turned depressing. Say, have any hobbies?”

 

Tom looked amused, “I’m honestly very boring,”  


“I don’t care,”

  
  
“Well, I like to read, do computer programming, cook… I like to sometimes draw as well,”

 

“Very broad range of interests,” Harry commented, impressed, “If you think you’re boring… well, I'm probably _extra_ boring,”

 

Tom snorted, “I sincerely doubt it,”

  
  
Harry gave a sheepish grin and rubbed his neck, “All I do really is go on Reddit and do makeup,”

 

“You do makeup?” Tom asked questioningly, he sat back and started searching his face, grey eyes roaming.

 

“Yeah, is that a problem?” Harry said daringly.

 

“No,” Tom assured, “But you don’t have any on right now,”

 

“Oh,” Harry said, with a slight tone of relief, “Well I don’t put makeup on myself often, I just like to put it on other people,”

 

“Is it hard?” Tom asked interested.

 

“It used it be. I got better and now its safe to say I’m pretty decent at it,” Harry said amused.

 

“If you’re good... you can put some on me,” Tom winked, tone flirtatious.

 

Harry gaped before he smirked, “I promise; I’ll be good, _sir,_ ” he purred.

 

Tom gave a crooked smile before leaning forward and kissing the corner of his mouth. Harry just stared with a blush, “You had a little ice cream there,”

  
  
Tom leaned in even further and whispered, “You’re right, the butter pecan is really good,”

  
  
Harry flushed a bright red and Tom chuckled.

 

* * *

  


**_1534 days until impact_ **

 

Harry moaned as Tom licked across his neck with a slow, languid touch.

 

Harry’s fingers clutched at Tom’s shirt; bunching the fabric in a firm grip. Tom scooted toward, straddling Harry even further and raked his fingers through his messy black locks. The sounds of panting echoed throughout the small room as they gyrated on each other's groin.

 

The soft, fleeting touches spread warmth throughout Harry. A heated trail that tingled; even the small caresses that were felt through a layer of fabric.  

 

Harry hissed as Tom bit down on his neck roughly, arching his neck and body, pulling Tom down- _harder, touch me harder-_ and his lover complied.

 

He started _ravaging_ his neck and collarbone. Leaving bruises and _bites_ and drawing blood multiple times, and yet; all Harry did was groan and demand more.

 

The pain added to the pleasure and Tom hissed when Harry's nails dug into his naked back.

 

This; this is what it felt to be _fucking_ alive.

 

“Put your hands behind yourself, Harry,” Tom whispered, and Harry did so with a moan. Tom reached one hand behind and grabbed Harry’s wrists, gripping them tightly.

 

It was very arousing, truthfully everything about Tom was _arousing_.

 

“Fuck me,” Harry demanded, rolling his hips as Tom brought a hand down to tweak his nipple, “I won't break,”

 

 _“Don't give me orders_ ,” Tom hissed, biting down harshly on an earlobe.

 

Harry moaned at the authoritative tone, “Please, _sir_ \- fuck me, hard,” he whined, neck arching against the cushions.

 

Tom grinned against the crook of his jaw, “Such a fucking-”

 

A harsh knock of the door broke through their electric haze.

 

Tom jumped slightly and narrowed his eyes, while Harry panted, still trying to regain control after the previous ravishing. Tom slid off Harry's lap and went to go to the door when the person banged on it again.

 

“HARRY!” a gruff voice yelled, “OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR,”

 

The tone set off alarm bells and he glanced back at Harry, who was suddenly pale and devoid of his arousal. Harry flinched when the man screamed again.

 

He stood up shakily and put a hand on Tom’s shoulder,  “Let me get it,” he said quietly, “Be ready to call the police if necessary,”

 

Tom nodded shortly, but with concern, “I’ll stay near,” he said softly.

 

The door banged again and Harry opened it with a wrench.

 

“ _What are you doing here?_ ” Harry hissed,

 

Tom snuck a glance of the man in front of him. The word that came to mind was _filthy._

 

He had shoulder length brown hair, protruding cheekbones and a thin face, with a wild gleam in his eyes. The… man wore a huge, unfitted trenchcoat, stained t-shirt and sweatpants; and was barefoot.

 

“You didn't see James,” the man said gruffly, “The world will end, and you won't see your fucking father,”

 

“He _murdered_ my mother,” Harry spat, glaring heinously, “I won't fucking see him even when it's the last day on the fucking Earth,”

 

“It was a fucking accident!” The man hissed, reaching for Harry, but was pulled short when he stepped back fearfully, “What a good _son_ you are. Hermione and Ron must be _proud_ ,” he glanced at his neck with horror, “Are those _fucking_ hickeys?”

 

Harry paled even further, “JUST FUCKING LEAVE SIRIUS! LEAVE ME BE!”

 

Tom inhaled sharply, his heart twinging with pain. He strode to be next to Harry and glared at the man, “Vacate the premises, right now” he said dangerously, “Or I will call the cops,”

 

Harry glanced at him as Tom put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and gave a watery smile, “Leave,” Harry said quietly.

 

Sirius gave him a disgusted and dawning expression, staring at his bare chest, “Just who the fuck are you?”

 

Tom opened his mouth but Harry interjected, “My boyfriend, now leave,” he said coldly.

 

The man barked out a laugh, “I always knew you were a _queer,_ with the makeup and all that bullshit, James would-”

 

Harry slammed the door with a choked sob, locking it. He whispered brokenly, “Call the cops,”

 

The banging started again with fervor. And Tom dialed 911.

 

Within minutes, the sound of sirens and streaks of red and blue arrived.

 

It was a blur for Harry, seeing his godfather get arrested once more. Atleast, this time he had Tom; who held him the entire time in strong and whispered comfort, even will he had to give his firsthand account.

 

When everything was finally said and done, Harry just _slumped._ Tears dripped down his cheeks and Tom wiped them away tenderly.

 

“Would you like to talk about it, or do you want to go to bed?” Tom asked carefully, wrapping him in a hug.

 

“I just want to forget this happened,” he mumbled, eyes wetting his shoulder.

 

“I can do that,” Tom assured, quietly fierce. He grabbed his chin gently and lifted it until they stared into each other's eyes.

 

Bright green to stormy grey.

 

Tom leaned down and gave a chaste kiss, Harry’s tremulous fingers wrapping around his hips hesitantly.

 

Harry moaned in surprise as Tom licked into his mouth. Tom groaned into Harry, biting lightly on his lip before dragging them both back onto the couch; both still kissing, dragging little noises out of one another.

 

It was the complete reverse of earlier; Harry straddling Tom’s lap instead of the other way around.

 

Tom’s breath stuttered as Harry gave an utterly gorgeous smile, the shadows from before dissipated.

 

“I’ll help you forget,” Tom said softly.

 

“Please,” Harry breathed.

 

Tom looked at him in awe and trailed fingers down Harry’s cheek, and he leaned into the fleeting touch.

 

“Mine,”

 

“ _Yours_ ,”

 

* * *

  


**_1408 days until impact_ **

 

Tom's co-workers grinned expectantly and watched as Harry snuck behind his chair.

 

He was furiously typing on his computer, oblivious to the world and intently focused. Harry gave a wink to all the spectators and put a finger to his lips before holding the party popper above Tom’s head.

 

Everyone watched with a bated breath as Harry pulled the string; and with a loud pop, confetti shot into the air before slowly descending.

 

Tom jumped comically and stood from the chair, twisting as he stared into Harry’s smug face and the sniggering of his co-workers.

 

“Happy year anniversary!” he grinned.

 

Tom just slowly brought a hand to his face and pinched his nose, before letting out a snort. His eyes were bright and he sounded petulant, “For fucks sake Harry, I was going to surprise you!”

 

He could see Sally take a picture; of Tom Riddle wearing a suit and tie, confetti and glitter in his styled hair.

 

He didn't care though, he just looked down at Harry who let out peals of uncontrollable laughter, “You're adorable” he choked out, poking Tom on the nose. He followed the fingertip with his gaze, eyes becoming cross-eyed in the process.

 

“Debatable,” Tom said.

 

“Nope,” Harry winked, hands on hips, “I said it, so it's true,”

 

Tom pretended to look thoughtful and shook his head, “We both know that I'm the smart one in the relationship,”

 

Harry snorted, “So, instead of the big spoon and the little spoon it's the idiot and the smartass?”

 

“Pretty much,” Tom said without thinking.

 

The last part of the sentence dawned on him and he said, “Wait-”

 

“Nope!” Harry chirped, “No take-backs!”

 

Tom just looked at him with a long-suffering look and went back to his desk and pressed enter, saving the file. He grabbed his laptop bag and sighed with a small smile.

 

From across the aisle, Hudson called out, “You going home?”

 

Tom gave a fake sniff and said, “It seems so,”

 

“I resent that,”

 

“Shut up, Harry,” Tom said good-naturedly

 

Harry squawked indignantly.

 

“As long as you finish that program at home,” Hudson said jovially.

 

Tom nodded and grabbed Harry’s hand, “I'm almost done anyways,”

 

Hudson smiled, “Good,”

 

They walked out the of the building, and Harry brushed the confetti out of Tom’s hair.

 

“In all seriousness though,” Harry whispered, “Happy anniversary, Tom,”

 

Tom gave a small, fond smile and wrapped his arms around Harry, nuzzling his face into Harry’s hair.

 

“Happy Anniversary, Harry,” he breathed.

 

They just stood there, smack dab in the middle of the parking lot; and yet neither of them cared. They were lost in their own world, lost in each others warmth.

 

A car honking broke them out of their self-imposed reverie.

 

Tom actually _growled_ and Harry had to drag him by the arm to the car. He waved in apology to the driver with a sheepish grin while Tom just grumpily followed.

 

Tom unlocked his car with a beep and threw the keys to Harry over the hood, who caught them with ease on the other side.

 

They were almost nonchalant about it, since they have been doing this for months now, the routine final and practiced.

 

Harry ducked and sat on the driver's seat. Tom did the same and shut the door with a soft slam.

 

As they buckled their seatbelts, Tom minutely froze, “How did you even get here? I took the car,” he asked.

 

“Oh, I took the bus,” Harry said distractedly. He inserted the key and turned it; the car rumbling as the interface turning on.

 

Tom suddenly let out a small laugh.

 

“What's funny?” Harry asked with a quirk of a smile.

 

“This is my car, and you're driving me. You kind of always do,”

 

“Well,” Harry said, a smirk slowly appearing on his face, “You suck at driving,”

 

“Bullshit,” Tom laughed.

 

“No seriously, you can't even parallel park,”

 

Tom rubbed his eyebrow, “True,” he said ruefully.

 

A content silence filled the atmosphere, aside from the small bumps and the quiet purr of the engine.

 

“Hey Tom, where do you want to go?” he asked suddenly.

 

When Tom looked uncomprehending Harry amended, “To dinner?”

 

Tom thought for a minute, and said, “What if I want to just make something at home?”

 

Harry looked startled for a second but smiled charmingly, “Of course, but uh… we would have to go to the store first. We have like _nothing_ in the fridge,”

 

“We?” Tom looked uncomfortably blank and Harry squirmed.

 

“Well,” he blushed, “Your fridge,”

 

“Oh I don't mind,” Tom said amused, “And I just went shopping before work, so we’re fine,”

 

There was a pause, and Tom asked, “Harry?”

 

Harry hummed questioningly. He turned the wheel and they all shifted to the side as they went into the driveway.  

 

“I was wondering if you wanted to move in with me,”

 

Harry stopped the car abruptly, still halfway out of the garage. He whipped his head sharply and gaped at Tom, who just looked mildly expectant.

 

“You want me to live with you?” he repeated.

 

Tom smiled amused, “Is it that surprising?”

 

“Well no,” Harry got out, “But, it just seems like a huge step,”

 

Tom just kind of… winced, “We are just four years away from a planet destroying the Earth. I believe it's perfectly acceptable,”

 

Harry's lips turned into a frown and he pulled in fully into the garage. He turned off the car and walked out, Tom in tow.

 

When they walked into the laundry room, Bubba started meowing in a greeting.

 

“Bubba!” Harry said happily. He kneeled and starting rubbing his chin, “You're adorable,” he said fondly, petting his back and all the way up his tail.

 

Tom just looked at Harry and his cat and a sudden warmth flared in his chest. Unrepentant and burning, it drilled a hole in his chest until he could only feel…

 

“I love you,” he said suddenly, “Live with me,”

 

_Love._

 

Harry seized his petting and just stared at Tom with his wide, beautiful eyes. Bubba let out a displeased noise and tried to rub himself on his frozen hand. When he made no move to continue petting, Bubba jumped onto the drier to watch the proceedings.

 

Tom looked… oddly hesitant.

 

“Tom…” Harry’s voice cracked.

 

“You already know I have a spare bedroom,” he said softly, “And if you want to sleep with me, which admittedly I would prefer-”

 

“Yeah,” Harry said, giving an astonished, watery smile, “I would love to live with you,”

 

Harry went up to Tom and just _enveloped_ him. His arms wrapped tightly around his hips, squeezing for all that's it's worth.

 

Tom almost let out a choked laugh and muffled it in Harry’s hair. He closed his eyes and just breathed in Harry’s scent.

 

Tea tree shampoo and his cologne. Tom gripped at Harry’s shirt and fought the feelings looming inside of him, culminating in his core into a warmth not unlike the _fucking_ sun.

 

It grew brighter and brighter, and Tom trembled in Harry’s hold.

 

“Tom?” Harry asked worriedly, “You're shaking,”

 

Tom broke into soft chuckles, eyes wetting Harry’s messy locks, “I'm just… happy,”

 

Harry sharply inhaled and shivered, “I’m happy too,” he said lovingly.

 

“I love you too,” Harry whispered.

 

Tom let out a shaky breath, and grinned. He pulled back slightly and cupped Harry’s face with his hands.

 

They stared in each others eyes and Tom leaned down to capture Harry in a breathtaking kiss.

 

* * *

  


**_1103 days until impact_ **

 

“Harry?” Tom whispered.

 

All Harry did was whimper and curl in on himself, a single drop of sweat drip down his temples.

 

Tom frowned and cupped Harry’s cheek, and even in his unconscious state he leaned into it. It caused not a small amount of satisfaction to burst through his veins. Harry's cheek felt beautifully warm, and Tom rubbed his thumb down his cheekbone.

 

Even so, Harry let out a choked cry and scooted towards Tom; seeking comfort in the body next to him, and held tightly. Tom’s cheek clenched, and he saw Harry burrow closer and sigh contently.

 

His heart soared.

 

It didn't last. His heart _sank_ to the floor when Harry suddenly whispered his name, _Tom_.

 

It sounded so _broken_. Desperate, hopeful, loving, terrified. He never wanted Harry to say anything in that voice ever again.

 

“Please, no-” he cried, “-stop. Please!” His fingers dug into Tom’s skin, leaving indents of half-moon crescents; breaking the skin underneath.

 

Tom panicked and straddled his love, pushing him to lay on his back. Harry's eyes flew open, glassy from fear. When he saw Tom’s eyes, an overwhelming _relief_ welled as tears, and they flowed out of the green orbs in droplets.

 

“You're alive,” Harry said, the words rushed and still unbelieving. Another tear dropped down Harry's flushed cheek.

 

“I am,” Tom assured, a sneaking suspicion taking root in his mind, “Of course I am, love,”

 

Harry blinked at the term of endearment and let out a sob, rushing forward and pressing his lips to Tom in a _desperation_ he hasn't seen before.

 

It was bruising and somewhat painful, but Tom just slowly licked into Harry's mouth. They just breathed each other's air for a while.

 

Harry’s arms wound around Tom tightly, moving upwards to meet in his mussed up locks.

 

“You're alive,” Harry whispered into his mouth. His fingers clenched onto his hair, “You're alive,”

 

Tom simply nodded and laughed softly, “I’m alive,” he agreed.

 

Their lips parted with a quiet smack and Harry grimaced.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said apologetically.

 

“No worries Harry,” Tom assured. He paused and asked carefully, “Would you mind me asking what the dream was about?”

 

Harry's eyes blew wide. He exhaled shakily and licked his lips.

 

“I guess you have to know…” Harry whispered, tilting his head and caressing Tom’s bicep with his fingers.

 

Tom shook his head swiftly, “You do not have to tell me unless you want to. I don't want to force you to tell something private,”

 

“Everyone is entitled to secrets-”

 

“I want to tell you Tom,” Harry interrupted, a small smile curling on his lips; looking dreadfully out of place with the dried tear tracks.

 

Harry shrugged, “I know it's been bothering you. I mean you know the basics…”

 

“Sirius,” Tom said quietly.

 

Harry nodded quickly, “Well uh… can you get off of me?” he said amused.

 

Tom blushed, he actually _blushed,_ and slid off, sitting atop the covers.

 

“Whenever you're ready,” he prompted, nodding. And Harry sharply inhaled before rubbing the back of his neck.

 

“You know how my fath- _James_ ,” he amended, “-killed my mom?” he asked quietly.

 

Tom nodded mutely.

 

“Well, I kind of… _knew_ it would end with something like that. Me and Lily both knew he had issues, and can't feel emotions correctly,”

 

Harry sniffled, “He probably was an undiagnosed psychopath, and I believe he truly thought he _loved_ Lily. But it wasn't. It was an obsession,”

 

Tom watched intently as tears started to stream down Harry's face silently. His heart thumped loudly and blood rushed through his ears as he watched _Harry_ break down.

 

“He was so charming outside the house. The perfect gentlemen,” Harry spat bitterly.

 

“He felt no, _no_ remorse for anything he would do. Withholding food from me, beating Lily and then taking her into his arms and apologizing. He watched me as he did it. There was _nothing_ in his eyes. No emotion whatsoever,”

 

“He eventually hit her too hard,” Harry murmured, “She fell down the stairs and died from brain trauma,”

 

Tom reached to brush his fingers against Harry's cheek, but he flinched and pulled back.

 

“I dreamt that he… that he killed _you_ too…”

 

Everything became cold, frozen as ice. Tom listened to Harry's story. It was… it was _horrible_ and he wanted to stop listening. He could painfully imagine little Harry quietly crying as his mother cowered under a menacing shadow.

 

He could imagine Harry helpless. And he _hated_ it. Absolutely _abhorred_ it.

 

Tom wished desperately that he was there, there to grab Harry and run. And never look back.

 

He… he never deserved this. Ever. No one does. And Tom watched Harry’s lip quiver as he felt his face turn ashen and trembling.

 

All Tom could do is interlock his fingers in Harry’s, and rub the palm of his hand in comfort.

 

“I tried to save her,” Harry said quietly, “From James,”

 

“But she _refused_ , why- why didn't she let me, we could've ran but she wanted to _stay,”_

 

Harry started sobbing, “ _I don't understand_ ,”

 

Tom pulled Harry forward and he collapsed into his chest, little hiccups escaping as Harry attempted to muffle his cries.

 

“Shhh,” Tom whispered, rubbing his back and brushing his fingers through his hair, “Just let it out love, let it _all_ out,”

 

“I’m here, and I always will be,”

 

Harry just cried harder, nose and eyes running and soaking Tom’s naked chest in his grief. Every so often Harry would attempt to choke out a few words, but every single time he would deteriorate into harsher and more helpless sobs.

 

Tom burrowed his face into Harry's hair, tears also trailing down his face.

 

He just held Harry. It was all he could do. Words of comfort would have no effect. It would not change the past, no matter how much he desperately wished he could.

 

It was indelible as the rogue planet that will inevitably destroy everything that he knows.

 

Including himself.

 

And Harry.

 

Tom hastily shook away the thought, _he couldn't bear to think of that right now_ , and watched as Harry subsided into faint whimpers.

 

“Are you alright?” Tom asked worriedly, tracing Harry's fevered skin with his fingertips.

 

Harry laughed wetly into Tom’s chest, nodding, “I am now,” he said delicately. He extricated himself from Tom’s hold and looked up at Tom with puffy eyes.

 

“Thank you for telling me, I… my story is admittedly not as horrific as yours but I sort of understand-”

 

“Don’t discount what you went through just because someone's had it worse,” Harry snapped, “That's a very unhealthy way of thinking. Everyone's trauma matters,”

 

Tom blinked with wide eyes and nodded mutely.

 

“Well,” Tom began when Harry prompted him with a nod, “My father raped my mother,”

 

Harry’s mouth tightened and Tom continued, “She was poor and destitute, and had no proof of the occurrence. She had to accept visitation rights because she couldn't afford to go to court. Especially one she most likely wouldn't have won,”

 

“Every few weeks and on most holidays, her _rapist_ -” he spat the word with vitriol, “-would visit and belittle her. He… convinced me that he was in the right from a young age. It didn't help I didn't even _know_ she had been violated and that I knew he was wealthy. Especially when I grew up in poverty,”

 

“She had died thinking that I chose her _rapist_ over her. I gathered what happened as I grew older, but it was already too late,” he whispered disgusted.

 

“I ran away when I was 14, and spent the rest of my teenage years in an orphanage. And the rest was history,”

 

Tom's face was ashen, and he curled in on himself, “I discounted _years_ of love from my mother so I didn't have to wear clothes from a _thrift store,_ ” he seethed, voice laden with self hatred.

 

“I don't regret _anything_ more than that,” he whispered. Tom couldn't even bring himself to look at Harry now. He simply clasped his trembling fingers and stared intently at them.

 

“That's fucked up,” Harry said horrified.

 

Tom flinched, a small noise escaping his throat.

 

“No,” Harry said comfortingly, “Not you- you were… what? Ten when he manipulated you?”

 

“ _Seven_ ,” Tom mumbled.

 

“ _Seven_?!” he hissed, “That fucking piece of shit-”

 

Tom stayed tellingly silent and just looked at Harry with an inscrutable expression.

 

“-What happened was undeniably fucked up. And it may seem it's your fault-” Tom flinched again, “-but it's not. You were _seven._ And you left as soon as you found out,”

 

Harry’s face softened and he laid a hand atop his knee. He squeezed it, “You left as soon as you could,” he repeated, “That- that is the best thing you could've done in that situation. I'm glad you got away from that asshole-”

 

“ _Thank you_ Harry,” Tom interrupted, a smile valiantly trying to appear on his face, “I’m still not convinced but-”

 

“ _I’ll have you know-_ ”

 

“I appreciate it,” Tom finished faintly.

 

Harry squinted his eyes and then huffed, “I'll have you know that my opinions are truth. Always,”

 

Tom grinned helplessly, amused, “Thanks,” he whispered.

 

Harry sighed, “You still don't believe it,”

 

“Nope,”

 

“I’ll convince you one day,” he vowed.

 

Tom shrugged, “You're invited to try,”

 

* * *

  


**_1009 days until impact_ **

 

“ _Harry!”_ Tom screamed, “Come here. _Now,”_

 

Harry jumped at the terrified scream and his blood ran cold. Tom sounded… scared.

 

The tone so unlike him; fearful, unsure, and anguished. He's only ever heard it once, from him, before.

 

 _‘This does not bode well’_ Harry thought panicked.

 

He sharply stood and strode into the hallway and barged into the bedroom. The door slammed onto the wall with a bang; Harry let out a confused noise at the scene in front of him.

 

Tom was petting Bubba, who was simply lying on the door. But… he didn't look relaxed. His face was _etched_ with worry and his hands were trembling as he scratched his cheek.

 

“What's wrong?” Harry demanded. The cold resurged with a new ferocity when he noticed…

 

… that Bubba's tail wasn't moving. It wasn't just that; it was limp. Like it was simply _sewed_ onto his cat.

 

“What…?” Harry hesitantly stepped towards the bed.

 

“Watch,” Tom harshly whispered.

 

Tom stood back and brought his fingers into a pinch, one Harry knows that Bubba always sniffs, as he usually has a treat.

 

Bubba's head perked up, and he quietly meowed. He made a move to stand-

 

_His front legs trembled as they held all of his weight, bottom half of his body still curled up and limp._

 

-and he collapsed before he could even straight his hind legs. Bubba still valiantly dragged himself forward, however. He meowed in pain as he put both paws in front of him, digging his paws into the sheets before _pulling._

 

 _Their_ cat inched forward, slowly but surely.

 

“He can't move the bottom half of his body,” Harry realized horrified.

 

Tom nodded, expression screwed in pain before barking, “Start the car. I’ll get him in a carrier,”

 

Harry didn't even acknowledge Tom’s order. He ran to the kitchen table and grabbed the car keys. Minutes later, Tom swiftly buckled into the passenger's seat; Bubba in tow in a plastic carrier, sitting on his lap.

 

They rushed to the emergency vet, skipping a few red lights on the way.

 

Harry had to stifle tears as they walked into the reception area, looking at all the other pets being held by their owners. Tom clutched the carrier and listened to Bubba’s frightened meows.

 

Harry cringed and fought to not puke at the sound.

 

As Tom told Bubba’s condition to the receptionists, they increasingly grew more and more alarmed. The two women shared a look and gave a kind, strained smile; both their hearts sank.

 

“We’ll put you on priority,” the older woman promised.

 

Tom nodded tersely, and not even a minute later they were lead to a room.

 

“Hello,” the young man said kindly, “I am Dr. Ereskine,” he flicked his gaze to Bubba; whom of which now out of the carrier and held in Tom’s arms. He frowned, “I’ve gathered he’s paralyzed from the waist down?”

 

Harry swallowed thickly and nodded. Tom whispered assurances to Bubba and pet his upper back.

 

“Put him on the table, please,”

 

He complied and set him down gently. Bubba flopped limply on the table and gave a pitiful meow; Tom reluctantly stepping away when the doctor began to examine him. They both watched with rapt eyes as Dr. Ereskine’s lips became more and more pinched.

 

The doctor straightened, “We will need to do an ultrasound. I believe he has a blood clot, specifically one in a chokehold on his spine. That would lead to a lack of blood flow on the bottom portion of his body,”

 

“Will he be alright?” Harry asked frettingly.

 

Dr. Ereskine turned sympathetic eyes to the couple, and Tom paled drastically.

 

He _knew_ that look, the look people gave when they have to deliver horrible news. The look people gave when they knew that the receiver’s life will be ruined.

 

Tom had been woken up from his slumber on the hard and uncomfortable hospital chair, a nurse shaking him awake gently.

 

His eyes were pinched and glimmered with a mournful glaze, “Tom Riddle?”

 

Tom had nodded anxiously and the words that followed was like _lead_ dropping into his stomach.

 

Merope, _his mother,_ died that night.

  
  
The following day was a blur, a mix of greys and dreadful blues as he simply existed. Every movement felt mechanical. Like he wasn’t in charge of his own body.

 

He ate, slept, and stared at nothing. Only aware of the painful beating of his heart before the stuffed cotton in his brain scratched and _scratched_ until he let it all out in the form of tears.

 

It was a slow decline, and it was weeks after the hospital that he began sobbing regularly into his arms.

 

Tom _never_ wanted to go through that again, to deal with the horrid loss of someone he _loved._

 

Even though life wasn’t fair, it shouldn’t happen to _his_ cat. _His_ Bubba. He’s too perfect for the world, and now the fucking doctor is making that _expression._

 

The expression that told millions of people that their hope was futile.

 

The expression that the astronomers showed the world.

 

Harry and Tom looked on desperately as other technicians joined and brought in, presumably, an ultrasound. One began to put the wand on Bubba’s belly while another comforted him, waving Tom over to help. Tom rushed to their cat’s side and stroked the top of his head comfortingly.

 

“Will he be alright?” Harry repeated, watching the scene with a sense of foreboding.

 

“There are several options,” the doctor began delicately, “If there is indeed a blood clot we can start him on blood thinners, but those will take 2-3 weeks to work. And they may not do so. Keep in mind that he will be in increasingly severe pain as time progresses, up until the clot is dissolved,” he warned.

 

Tom’s hand not on Bubba clenched and he asked hoarsely, “And the other options?”

 

“We can also perform a surgery, known as a rheolytic thrombectomy. We would make an incision on the blood vessel and use a sort of vacuum to suck the clot out,”

 

“What are the risks?” Harry demanded.

 

“Approximately half of all cats make it to discharge. It is a very dangerous procedure, especially in felines, and if they do make it- it makes them much more likely to get further clots,”

 

Tom hissed, “Are there any _safe_ options?”

 

The doctor hesitated, “The only other option, and one I would recommend, is to put him to sleep,” he said softly.

 

Harry let out a shuddering sob and ran up to Tom and Bubba, almost desperately rubbing his thumb on the cat’s forehead. A wounded noise escaped Tom’s pursed lips.

 

“Um, sir?” the technician ventured, “Look,” he pointed at the screen.

 

Harry craned his head to look over Tom’s shoulder. Tom wrapped an arm around his boyfriend.

 

In the gray and black splashes, laid Bubba’s internal organs and veins. Harry couldn't tell what he was specifically gesturing to… but she wouldn't be pointing if they hadn't found something.

 

The doctor’s studied the image intently before sighing, “Your cat does have a blood clot,”

 

“Show me,” Tom commanded.

 

“These black lines are veins, the larger ones over here are arteries,” he began, “You see how they suddenly become absent right around here?” he circled a portion of the screen with a finger.

 

Tom nodded jerkily, Harry dissolving into faint sobs. Harry burrowed further into Tom’s chest as his arm tightened around Harry’s waist. Bubba looked at them with bleary eyes and meowed pitifully.

 

“Right here,” he pointed to a specific point, “-is the clot. You could faintly see the curvature of the black, which is his blood, and that indicates a blood clot,”

 

“Are you sure there isn’t any other way?” Tom asked softly, a tear trailing down his cheek. He looked at Bubba and sniffed, petting his neck.

 

“ _Tom,”_ Harry hissed, “You seriously can't be considering _killing_ Bubba,”

 

Harry extricated himself from Tom’s grip, “Why can't we do the surgery? Either he passes away from euthanasia or he maybe passes away from surgery. It’s-”

 

“-Unnecessary suffering,” Tom said hoarsely.

 

Harry shut his mouth with a click and glanced at the doctor pleadingly, “Exactly how much more common are blood clots after the surgery?”

 

“He would be lucky to not get one within a few months,” he answered sympathetically.

 

“That’s not a number,” Tom snapped. Harry nodded viciously.

 

“Approximately 78% of felines get another blood clot within four months of the surgery,”

 

Harry closed his eyes against the overwhelming grief. Tom released a broken sound and laid his head gently atop Bubba. When he started sobbing, that was the catalyst for Harry as well.

 

The ride home was tellingly silent.

 

It took everything Harry had to not collapse before he would reach their bed; but he _knew_ it would not be to sleep. Harry doubted that he would be able to even catch a moment's rest any time soon.

 

As Harry stared at the ceiling, he heard the breaking of glass, _some sort of dishware,_ shattering against a wall. And then a broken scream.

 

* * *

 

 _“The largest ever nuclear weapon has been detonated inside Tenebris’ crust, and the results are grim,”_ the reporter said.

 

_“The planet received less than a scratch; it blew a crater the size of well under 1% of the entire mass,”_

 

_“Experts say that using multiples of the warhead could work. But the chances are so slim it's next to none,”_

 

_“We truly have no hope,”_

 

The television turned to static and shut off with a whine.

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to make this into a oneshot but I literally can't figure out how to start the next few scenes... so I'm going to post the first part so I have more time. lmao forgive me ;-;
> 
> aNyWaYs I hope this is depressing enough for you all. the cat mentioned is actually based off my cat, and the way he died is how my previous one did... really shitty stuff :(
> 
> I've never really done this much dialogue, and this many words for a singular fic in like... never. So I hope you enjoy :D
> 
> ~Katelynn Irene Lovegood


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